


Too Depressed, No Write

by Biryu13, KamCollabs (Kamari333)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Contains Plague Doctor, F/M, M/M, Other, Unrealistic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26753746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biryu13/pseuds/Biryu13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamari333/pseuds/KamCollabs
Summary: My collection of the prompts I managed to write for before illness and depression kicked my teeth in.
Relationships: Kin (Bloodborne)/ Sans (Undertale), Sans (Undertale)/Original Character(s), Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 17





	1. AO3 is a Bully

As I write this up Kam is in a VC just baffled by AO3 shoving me into a locker and demanding my lunch money.

ANYWAY--

Brief synopsis for each chapter so that I can post notes properly and make sure no one gets hips deep in stuff they didn't want to read!

**#1: What Cuts Deep**  
  
Human OC, Abby and her Horrortale Sans bf Spencer engage in some knife play! Safety first!

**#2: Medical Benefits**  
  
Kam's Underlust Sans Kink has some fun with my Sans!OC Falsi with sounding! And vibes! Woo!

**#3: Medical Attraction**  
  
Falsi again! This time with one of Kam's Dancetale boys, Hiphop! It's a part one! Kam will post the part two! _Medical Play!_

**#4: Making Contact**  
  
Falsi AGAIN! Huzzah! Darker themes this time with a dust-lust boy of mine named Decadence! Bad times! Noncon! Watch out!


	2. What Cuts Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: ~~Omorashi~~ | Knifeplay | ~~Body swap~~  
>  Extra Kinks: Sadomasochism, Sex Toys, Orgasm Denial, Teasing, Begging, Biting
> 
> Absinthe and Spencer -- Abby always knows just what to do to drive her mate up the wall and back off the cliff again. Spencer can’t even be mad, especially when he’s wearing his voice out demanding more.
> 
>  **Warnings: Cursing, Blood, Mutilation, Mentions of Cannibalism, Discussion of Cannibalism, Mentions of Dismemberment, Death, Dark Humor, Discussion of a Mental Illness, Mental Illness**  
>  \-----------  
> Absinthe is a human Lich OC of mine. She's gonna be kind of a freak and I'm sorry.  
> Spencer is a Horrortale Sans made by [GetMcDunkedOn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GetMcDunkedOn/profile), he's sociopath but he does actually like Abby, just not anyone else. He's also a massive masochist. Like excessively. Like, boy needs to calm down. Goodness.

Abby considered herself quite handy with a knife. She had to be, really. Carving, butchering, gardening, food preparation, even the careful maintaining of fabric; all required a blade of some sort, and she’d put in more than her fair share of time with each-

“Ah! Son of a fuck!”

-which made the occasional slip all the more damaging to her pride.

She nursed her finger a bit, inspecting the damage. The blood was smearing the wrappings on her other hand, but she didn’t pay it any mind; the wraps needed changed soon anyways. The smell was starting to go from tart apple to rotten cider, and that wasn’t ideal for anyone.

An irritated growl came from upstairs and the door was kicked open unceremoniously. Her boyfriend was always a grouch in the morning. “th’fuck did ya do now?”

“Cut my finger.”

“again?” Spencer wasn’t a small guy, the floorboards creaked under his weight and hedonistic stomping. “be more careful, only one who can cut ya up s’me.”

“Yeah yeah.” She offered the finger to him and looked away when he ran his tongue up the length of the digit before lapping lazily at the cut. She wasn’t blushing. She refused.

“yer blushin’.”

“Fuck.”

“hehe, ya like that, huh, blood maiden?” He snickered at her but continued to idly lick at the cut until the blood flow eased. It took a few moments, magic made her blood less likely to coagulate but the flavor was too good to waste.

She opted not to say anything, just letting him enjoy his treat.

“what are you makin’ anyway?”

“Sounding rod.”

“another one?”

“This one has beads~” She showed her work, most of the carving was done, the bone perfectly whittled down into a long, straight rod with small bumps near the top. “A little wider, too.”

Spencer stared at the rod, eyelight hazing a little. He liked when she did this, made toys for them to use out of bone. Her bone. A femur going to a strap on dildo and the ball joint going to a cock ring, hot as hell. The first sounding rod she’d made out of part of her radius, sexy as hell. Now this. The point was slightly sharpened, the edges weren’t nearly as rounded and smoothed as the other had been, sporting little convex sides. It would hurt.

It was almost embarrassing how hard he was thinking about it.

Almost.

“is it ready to use?” His voice felt a little tight and by the smile Abby had, she’d noticed and wasn’t going to let that go so easily.

“I was gonna smooth it out a little more… if you can wait, we can use it.”

“i--”

“If you can’t, I can put this to better use~” She put the whittling knife back into her bag but pulled out the hunting knife she was far more comfortable with, the one with a sturdy blade and a gut hook.

Spencer shivered on sight of it, head fuzzing slightly as the jolt of arousal went down his spine. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her upstairs, reaching down while he walked to squeeze his dick painfully hard. Goddamn she drove him nuts. He was a freak, he was a freak and she loved him. She was a freak too.

He (loved her) liked her. A little. (A lot.)

Once they were upstairs, he kicked his door closed and stripped out of his pants fast enough to get tangled in, toppling forward with a little ‘help’ from Abby. She yanked them the rest of the way off him and rolled him over, dragging that knife along the inside of his femur and making his head spin delightfully. Pain sparking into dark, heady pleasure, making his body shiver. 

A curse was startled out of him when she dug the blade into his hip, pressing it through the supple ecto and into the joint. It was all he could do to not lose his mind right there, but he knew this was just a taste, Abby always treated him right. The blade dragged slowly through the ruby colored magic and lifted, leaving a perfect moon cut around his hip.

“God you’re such a freak,” she purred against his skull and was rewarded with a savage bite to her shoulder.

“pot, kettle, bitch~”

His quip earned him a rough, heated kiss. Apple and copper mixed in an odd, heady haze. All Spencer could feel was her warmth against him, the sharp bite of that knife as she left deep cuts down his leg, across the soft ecto of his belly, dragging dangerously up his weeping cock. He was so close already, dragged towards the proverbial edge with a rope made of barbed wire and silk promises.

Then, the gut hook pressed into his tip. 

Spencer lost the feeble grip on his sight and nearly the one on his consciousness. That rope tightened around him and yanked him over the edge, his cum squirting out around the intrusion and coating the blade in what would have been a gruesome display otherwise.

“Fuck you’re hot,” Abby dug her fingers into the cuts she made in Spencer’s pseudo-flesh, making him go figuratively boneless and limp. She removed the knife and rubbed down his legs, letting him come back to himself slowly. “You want more?”

“nnngh...”

“Is that a yes or--”

“nnnnngh!” He rolled his hips up defiantly. More it was.

She dug the blade into the knot at the base of his dick, then slowly made a spiral cut all the way up to the tip. It was shallow, but on such a sensitive area it nearly made Spencer black out from the intense mix of pleasure and pain. Before he could recover, she started inching herself down onto him. Every clench, every shift, even just the warmth irritated the cuts, sparking with yet more stimulation. It was endless and intense. 

The room was filled with the sounds of their hedonistic display, her own soft moans in contrast with his cries and pleas for more. Faster, he begged, harder, always harder, until she was fucking him into the mattress.

Colors and shapes melted away, time wasn’t real. Each orgasm faded into the next and he only knew he was crying from the stimulation when she wiped his tears away. Then, everything went black.

When Spencer came to, he was getting all the benefits of his human lover; warm rubs, a soft place to lay his head and the steady beat of her weary, dying heart. 

“i love you.”

“I love you too.”

“bitch.”

“Asshole.”

He nuzzled back into her and went back to sleep. No point getting up just yet. He earned this. Abby agreed, watching him drift back off to his blissful sea of dreams, where there was all the food he could want; where they weren’t starving for food she didn’t carve off her body and painstakingly regrow.

One day, this would be all he’d want for. But for now… well…

Abby was good with a knife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Titles:
> 
> 100 Correct Ways to Cut Things and One Incorrect Way
> 
> or
> 
> A Way to a Man's Heart is Through the Ribs


	3. Medical Benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: ~~Human furniture~~ | Sounding | ~~Macro/micro~~  
>  Extra Kinks: Doctor Play, Praise, Overstimulation
> 
> Falsi and Kink -- In his efforts to help his rather affectionate friend, Falsi finds himself in need of more samples.
> 
>  **Warnings: Needles, Drug Use, Discussion of Drug Use, Discussion of an STD, Discussion of an Illness, Discussion of Death, Discrimination, Discussion of Abuse**  
>  \-----------  
> Kink is Kamari333's lusty boy, more specifically one from her Dr33mtal3 stuff. AKA the boy you guys love from her previous Kinktobers. He's a bad boy~  
> Falsi is a plague doctor OC Sans of mine that you guys might have spotted in some recent works of Kam's as well. He's a doctor. Of the plague variety. But not a fake doctor. Layers! You get a lot of him in these chapters and I apologize~

[u ready?]

[Yes, everything is set up. Mafiatale 14.45.23.1938]   
[Amor Heights, Suite 4]

[fal that place is expensive!]

[It has an in suite spa and enough space for our needs. Besides, lovely, I’ve got the room for the weekend, when we’re done you can bring your paramours for a nice little get away! ;)]

Kink smiled at the text exchange, looking over at Dust and Horror, fondness swelling in his soul. His phone buzzed softly again and he looked back down at it.

[Room service is included as well.]

Kink adored that man. He wished that the doctor and Dust had met on better terms. While Falsi hadn’t seemed too bothered with Dust’s attempt on his life, Kink didn’t want to put either of them in too much danger just yet. But the temptation was strong, all the stronger when he thought of Falsi making his boys feel as safe and cared for as Kink felt when-

He sighed. _He was a sucker for strong personalities, wasn’t he?_

Not wanting to keep the good doctor waiting, Kink gathered up his clothes, getting dressed in the dark quiet of their room, then disappearing mid-stride to the door. 

It took a few carefully planned jumps for Kink to get where he needed to go without prying eyes seeing him. He always seemed to get blissfully lucky to go unnoticed by the destroyer when it was Falsi calling for him. Falsi had mentioned in passing that Ink would help him along, then keep Error distracted long enough for them to conclude their business.

Kink would love to meet the man, give him a proper thank you.

_...yeah definitely a sucker for a strong personality. _

The lust type got oddly nervous as he checked into the hotel, heading up in the elevator to give himself time to calm down. He wasn’t afraid of Falsi, definitely not. But their sessions were always so intense. Personal. It made his soul flutter about excitedly, it was embarrassing.

The elevator dinged and opened to his destination floor and he walked the hall to suite 4. There was a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign taped to the door. The lovely font was familiar to Kink; Falsi wrote all his notes in the same beautiful calligraphy, flourishes and all. Taking a deep breath he started to knock-

-but the door opened before he could, a familiar mask looking directly at him.

“f-falsi--”

“You’re late~” His voice always sounded different in the mask, deeper, but no less smooth and soothing. A low heat settled in Kink’s pelvis but he beamed in return.

“i took the elevator, is all.”

“Lazy bones~” Falsi tittered softly and stepped aside, letting him in and then shutting and locking the door. “There are refreshments in the main sitting area if you want to relax a while before we start.” He was always so thoughtful, but Kink shook his head.

“maybe after?” Falsi always wore him out, wrung out and used but cared for. It was so similar to how Dust made him feel. That heat settled heavier. “definitely later.”

“Ah, very well~ Who am I to judge when you get your pleasantries, after all~” Falsi shrugged, almost exaggeratedly, then gestured to the bedroom. “Kindly strip yourself and lay down for me, lovely.”

“yes, doctor,” Kink purred, well amused by his own antics only to blush when Falsi reached over, tipping his chin up and letting his uncovered thumb rub against his teeth.

“Now if you’re going to be coy with me, then you’ll say my name properly like a good subject.” It was a tease, but it did nothing but stoke that fire now roaring inside Kink.

“yes, doctor falsi.”

“Good boy… now shoo~” He pat Kink’s blushing cheeks with both hands before going into the kitchen area to get something.

Kink stepped into the bedroom and had to swallow down the imagined knot in his throat. The bed had been stripped of its normal linens and replaced with a dark colored fabric and there were silks tied to the headboard and at the foot of the bed. It was a far different set piece than the metal table that was nearby.

Beakers, vials and syringes, some sitting empty, some filled with various colored liquids that by now Kink was very familiar with, and a set of tubing, pump and large jar that had Kink’s magic forming almost painfully fast. 

_ Damn that pump and the fact he couldn’t take it home. _

Kink stripped himself out of his clothes, tossing them carelessly into a pile in a nearby chair, then he hopped onto the bed, getting comfortable on the firm mattress.

He wasn’t left alone long, Falsi came in, setting aside a little basket down on the floor and immediately setting to the task of binding Kink’s arms and legs. The bonds were tight enough to prevent movement and tied in such a way that took some of the pressure off Kink’s wrists. Which he was grateful for.

“Safeword is going to be blue.”

“safeword’s blue”

“Mhm.” Falsi started placing small vibes on Kink’s bones. Starting with his spine, he placed one on either side of the column. He started from the lumbar vertebra and stopped just short of the cervical vertebra and carefully taped the wires down to keep stimulation localized and to keep him from getting tickled.

Then he placed a few on the inside of Kink’s ribs, as close as he could manage to the sternum without actually touching it. 

Finally, one was placed directly behind where his member was summoned and the cord taped down along the inside of his pelvis to meet the cords on his spine.

Kink could feel Falsi’s fingers trailing down, checking chips and scratches, fresh and healing bruises, bite marks. He tsked at some and hummed at others. He wasn’t sure how Falsi could tell wounds that were from love and which ones… weren’t. He shivered as Falsi’s hand trailed over a bite Dust had left the night before… then he took a swab, carefully dabbing at the wound, taking the latent magic that was left inside.

“Dust?”

“mhm… he’s very possessive.”

“A good trait,” Falsi purred, then took a thin silver rod from his pocket, finally giving Kink’s throbbing member some attention. He tightly gripped the base… then eased the rod inside slowly, making Kink’s spine arch in an impressive display of his flexibility. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a sounding rod in him, not by a long shot, but Falsi’s were laced with magic that buzzed and tingled. The equivalent of a vibrator hilt to tip inside his trembling, throbbing cock. “Ready?”

“please! please, please, plea--”

Kink screamed as the bullets were turned on, fading to a whimper as Falsi lowered the dial to the lowest setting.

“Oh, my mistake~”

_ Damn that man and the fact he couldn’t take him home. _

Falsi went about his work, making sure that Kink was properly stimulated the entire time. Kink was too preoccupied with how full his dick felt, how his spine was acutely aware of the odd but stimulating pulse pattern of the bullets and the building pressure as he was edged further and further, to give any sort of vague half fuck about a few needles.

He was only dimly aware of a few sighs, tsks and other sounds that indicated Falsi wasn’t pleased with what he was seeing, but he hardly ever was. The man spent hours lamenting over not writing down whatever formula he’d used for himself so long ago.

After a while, Falsi started injecting more things, taking yet more samples afterwards… but he only seemed to get more and more irritated as Kink’s mind started blurring more and more into a haze of pleasure. Finally, Falsi shook his head.

“I need to get a look at your soul, your magic is interfering with my tests, lovely.” A jolt of worry was swallowed by another wave of delight as the vibration pattern briefly synched with his resonance, only to fall back into that painfully delightful discordance again.

“i-it’ll be safe?”

“I’ve handled both more fragile and more contagious things than a soul filled with LT, lovely… I won’t be hurt and I won’t hurt you.” As if his own personal harm was what bothered him and not infecting one of the few people who wanted, desired and seemed dead set on helping Kink rather than hurting him. 

He ignored the odd tightness in his soul and nodded, allowing it to form and looking away. He didn’t want to see. He didn’t know which would be worse for the doctor to think; disgust… or that delightful fascination he seemed to find in nearly everything. He wasn’t sure if that would hurt less, or just make that ache worse.

“Ah, this… black fluid-”

“night.”

“Fascinating...”

Ah, that was alright, it was fine, see, he was so caught up in-

“Your color is lovely as well, under this… the light is very pleasing.”

_ Well fuck. _

“Alright, this will definitely be uncomfortable and I apologize.” He turned the vibes up, as if to attempt to protect Kink from what happened next, but they both knew-

-it wouldn’t help.

Falsi was very careful, trying not to let Kink’s pained little whimpers shake his otherwise steel resolve. He needed to do this, Kink needed him to do this. He’d taken one of his scalpels and was carefully, slowly removing first some of the black resin, putting it away inside a vial for study later, then some of the viscous slime that denoted LT.

The stuff was only less caustic than LV by a thin, nearly irrelevant margin. But it was enough that one of his regular vials would do. A little scrape, then he’d clean the blade along the rim of the glass, then he’d return to take a little more. It was a long, tedious process.

But eventually, he had enough to work with once he got back to the house. 

“All done, lovely. All done.” He put the little light back in Kink’s ribs. He tried to ignore the feeling of guilt when he noticed his friend was crying, whether from overstimulation or pain, he didn’t much care; it was unacceptable.

He reached over, pulling the sounding rod free, then stepping back a bit at the impressive display. To say Kink resembled a fountain would be giving him both too much and not enough credit, as Falsi was sure someone would pay handsomely to have the man in a hotel lobby like this in a heartbeat.

The thought made him giggle. 

“Are you still awake? ...Kink? ...I suppose that’s an answer.” Falsi giggled to himself again and started untying his subject. A little wash, something to eat and he’d show himself out, leaving Kink the suite for him and his mates to enjoy.

It was the least he could do.

And if Kink wanted to give him a few more samples before he hit the road? Well, who was he to argue~?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After discussing chapter titles, Kam decided this was their shipname. Because they're friends, but with benefits and Falsi's a doctor.


	4. Medical Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: ~~Fisting~~ | Medicalplay | ~~Orgasm denial~~  
>  Extra Kinks: Orgasm Control, Light Bondage, Blindfolding, Sextoys, Sounding
> 
> Falsi and Hiphop -- The pair play doctor together in the clinic after an odd, heat-like need overcomes them and the rest of the house.
> 
>  **Warnings: Needles, Drug Use, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort**  
>  \-----------  
> Falsi's here again, this time in his more enclosed place of residence. He's going to be okay though, no worries.  
> Hiphop is a Dr33mtal3 dance!Sans of Kam's creation. He's a little like Dance from Resonance, except well, a little softer around the edges. He also still does the wiggles~! And refuses to go into the closet! So, yay~!
> 
> Look forward to a Part TWO on the 3rd from Kam!  
> Woo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Kamari:** This is the one chapter that I actually helped write! This is actually Biryu's adaptation of a two-part roleplay we did together! And... I will be adapting the second part in my Kinktober 2020 :3

Living at Dream’s house of vagabonds and misfits came with benefits and challenges like any home filled with more than two people. Sometimes the kitchen was continuously on fire and smelled like burned milk and stale pasta, meaning anyone wishing to use the stovetop, sink or even just walking by had to pass through a revolting miasma of odor that could curl paint. Sometimes a wayward skeleton would run, full sprint, around a corner and not account for a furtive human cleaning the floor in some feverish need to clean, sending the skeleton into the wall hard enough to detach limbs. Sometimes the head of the household would unintentionally pump the air with a powerful cocktail of pheromones that sent man and monster alike aflame with the most basic and carnal of needs.

Like now.

Had he been allowed his mask, Falsi would probably have been fine. The careful selection of herbs, incense and oils he filled it with work wonders on his nerves and frayed mind. He doubted that the haze would seep through the leather, but it wasn’t something he could test. At least not now.

Ink had taken Dream out of the house, likely to stash away someplace until the worst of his season faded, but what was already in the air had soaked into the walls already. He and the others were effectively trapped.

Falsi’s bones ached, burned from the marrow outwards in a manner he couldn’t accurately explain in his current state. It gnawed and itched, searing outwards more and more--

“Oh, confound it all!!” He gave up at last, leaning back in his desk chair and closing his notebook. He couldn’t think like this. He shakily got to his feet and tucked the leather book away in his coat, resigned to finishing the formula another time. He hoped Fresh would understand it wasn’t for lack of trying. Once Dream was back, he’d work on it more, but right now…

Right now all his mind and body cared about was this damn pseudo-heat. They were always the worst, year after year. In the time it would take for the memory to fade, a new one would begin and his mind was just as unprepared this time as it was for the first. Carnal wants to have another body close to his were all he could think of as he walked the halls, staggering a little on his desperate walk towards the kitchen. 

He could hear the chorus of agony once he was outside his office. Withdrawal and heat combined were a hell he’d not wish on anyone… well, perhaps that was a bit of a lie. Anger prickled at him in a familiar, delightful manner. Yes, yes that was pleasant. He knew it showed on his face, he was too expressive without his mask. But as quickly as it came, that hot, red feeling left him, replaced with toxic purples and pinks.

...he’d have to giggle about that to Ink later, the man sometimes ruined his ability to recall colors as anything other than those raw feelings.

So caught up in his own head Falsi didn’t notice he wasn’t alone until a smaller form bumped into him.

At first he thought it might be one of the classics but there was a soft, subtle scent. Salt water?

“Hiphop?” He found himself flushing a little when the smaller skeleton nuzzled into him a little. He chose to ignore the odd tightening in his soul when he realized Hiphop was smelling him. 

_Oh lord. Oh moon and stars, help him._

Hiphop looked up at him and there was that confused look that Falsi often got from him. Like he both knew and didn’t know Falsi on sight. He tried not to let that get to him so badly--

“uh. falcon, right?”

\--but failed. 

The doctor’s expression fell. He didn’t do well with being forgotten. Death, he couldn’t fear less. But being forgotten--

“no. frappuccino?”

\--was just unacceptable. Irritation now prickled at him as he watched Hiphop try and puzzle out who he was. Any other person and Falsi would have just cut his losses there and walked away. Damn his soft hearted nature.

“no. uh. i mean, i could go for one… falsi.”

 _Oh._ He visibly perked up.

“that sounds closer.” Before Falsi could agree, Hiphop continued, almost drunkenly, to say, ”you smell nice.”

He couldn’t help the smile, amused by Hiphop’s habit of literally speaking his mind. 

“Falsi, yes. And thank you, I take great pride in keeping my person clean.” He knew he likely smelled like flowers,oils, incense and his own vague odor of a warm home. But as he took in Hiphop’s appearance, his amusement left him, concern painting his features. “...are you alright?”

“no,” Hiphop said, the irritation in his voice was… more natural. Falsi could see him complaining in that tone daily. Floors being cold, food isn’t ready. It was… nice. It was nice to see him feeling… actually feeling. “i’m miserable. this is hell. i hate this time of year.” 

“Oh, I quite agree, withdrawal plus insistent need for sexual relief can really drive a man-” Mad. Insane. To want to strangle a god with their bare hands. He sighed and shook his head, expression freely showing how exasperated he was.

There was a beat… then Hiphop continued.

“i need coffee, you like coffee?”

Falsi tried his best not to reflect on that, knowing Hiphop was just bad at conversations. They’d had coffee many times together; he and Bara often went with Falsi to get more. Sometimes Sci would come along… it was nice. Normal.

He almost missed normal. What a funny thought.

“Would you like to get a coffee with me?” He gestured in the vague direction of the kitchen. At least he thinks it’s the kitchen. Down four flights of stairs, but maybe one is up? He’s very uncertain now that he thinks about it. Don’t think about it. “It might help.” It won’t but they could both dream.

That made him giggle a little.

“fuck yes.” Hiphop sighed in a manner that made Falsi unsure if he was agreeing to coffee or bending over a table. He turned and walked off before he could be pressed for more and Falsi nearly followed but…

Hiphop was walking like his clothes were twisting in all the best and worst ways. Like just the touch of the fabric was-

The thought made Falsi titter softly, an amused, impish expression alighting his face. “Maybe you need a little more than coffee if you’re flaring so badly?” He came up behind Hiphop. “What material is your attire made of?”

“uh.” Hiphop paused, both speaking and walking. Falsi had to stop too, lest he close the distance too much.

A little dangerous with Hiphop.

His scar itched.

“i think cotton? a little elastic in the waistband?”

“Cotton should not cause so much irritation.” Falsi’s expression shifted, looking worried as he walked around Hiphop to take his hand, looking at the flushed bone, the bit of light that flickered between the joints. It got brighter if anything. 

_Interesting._

“Is the heat getting to you?” He looked up to meet Hiphop’s gaze, feeling a little swell of pride and elation at the flush there, the little shake to the smaller skeleton’s breath. The heat wasn’t the only thing getting to him, clearly.

“uh- yeah...” 

He schooled his expression, careful to not indicate anything of his own feelings. He didn’t want answers to be skewed one way or the other.

“Terrible… would you like help?”

Falsi took in the subtle shifts of Hiphop’s expression, the way his breathing stuttered a little, his eyelights looking about Falsi’s face. He thought he’d gone too far when Hiphop gripped his arm, but the smaller skeleton was using him for support. He was dizzy, lightheaded from a simple question.

“of course i would, but,” He laughed a little, humorless. “i don’t want it cuz of obligation or uh… pity.”

That answer was not what he was expecting, but the way Hiphop kept leaning into him, the heated look in his gaze.

Hiphop wanted Falsi. _Badly._

The thought settled in him and he couldn’t help the soft, breathless little giggle that bubbled up from him. 

“Pity?” Falsi brought Hiphop’s hand up, nuzzling his teeth to his carpal bones. A soft, but charged little kiss. “You sell yourself short, songbird.”

Hiphop shivered, gaze lidded a little. “take me...”

Well, if he insists.

Falsi knelt for a brief moment, slipping an arm under Hiphop’s knees and using the other to support his back as he scooped him up. Hiphop clung to his shoulders, looking around briefly but then settling in.

“where are we going?”

“You told me to take you,” Falsi said, walking back down the hallway. “I need a private room with a flat surface.”

Hiphop turned bright, bright blue. Ah, he didn’t realize he’d said that. Cute.

When they entered the clinic, the moment Hiphop saw where they were, he began to tremble. He was afraid. Like he had been before. But not of Falsi but of the idea of what Falsi was. A doctor. Falsi stiffened, all too aware of what another panic might do.

He swallowed his own uncertainty and pressed his face against Hiphop’s, making him focus on him. The irony of his disfigurement being pressed against the very one who made it wasn’t lost on him.

“Focus on me. I won’t hurt you, you’re safe with me--” 

When Hiphop’s breathing started to settle, he walked through the clinic to his bedroom, still whispering reassurances. Hiphop shifted, but only to hide his face in Falsi’s chest, breathing slow and deep, though it still hiccuped now and then. Once the door was closed, Falsi tossed a sheet over his personal workstation, concealing instruments that might further upset his guest.

“I’ve got you, songbird...”

Falsi tried to lay Hiphop down on the bed, but Hiphop kept hold of him, slowly calming down.

“keep talking like that… and i’m not gonna need much else...” Hiphop’s magic was still flickering brightly between his joints, if anything it seemed more agitated than it had before. Well that was good, Falsi thought, it meant that his panic had not chased away the nerve to do this with him.

Comfort was good, it made Falsi feel better about this arrangement.

“well uh… now what?”

Now there was a question. It’d been some time for Falsi, at least he thought it had been, normally if he thought on it too much his head would get fuzzy and the idea would flit away like some wayward butterfly.

“Well, we could start slow for you, if you’d like,” Falsi suggested. “I don’t mind a bit of warm up, myself, but if you’d rather get down to business,” he paused, then smiled slightly as an idea hit him. “I have a few tools that might make this quite a good time for you.”

Hiphop swallowed nervously, his flush deepening. “uh, what kind of tools?”

“Would you like to know?” He leaned back, pulling a thick, black length of cloth from his coat. “Or would you like a bit of mystery~?” He couldn’t keep the giggle out of his voice if he tried. 

Hiphop didn’t flinch at the blindfold, looking between it and the tall doctor a few times… then stared at the fabric. 

“my. uh. safeword is… uh-” He looked confused a moment, in thought. “blue? i think it was blue.”

“Safeword’s blue.” Hiphop nodded to confirm and Falsi took the moment to steal a brief but very heated kiss, delighting in how the other relaxed into it. Then, he secured the soft cloth around Hiphop’s sockets. 

A delighted shiver and Hiphop relaxed fully back on the bed. It was soft, too soft in his own opinion, so Falsi didn’t worry about him getting sore on that front. Maybe Hiphop would like it. Maybe Hiphop would come share his bed more often after this…

A man could hope.

“That’s it… you’re being so good for me, aren’t you?”

He smirked at the flush that spread down further along the bottom of the blindfold. He stepped away quietly, pulling a large box from under his bed and searching around for what he wanted. 

“gonna try...”

“Oh, I’m sure~” Falsi’s voice lowered, bordering on a purr with only the lilt of his tone to betray the smirk he was wearing. He secured the items he wanted: a fine selection of tubing, a sturdy jar and powerful little pump. He set them aside and started removing Hiphop’s attire.

The dancer gripped at his sweater when his pants and socks were removed and Falsi frowned, uncertain… but it was better to ask rather than jump to conclusions again.

“Do you feel better with it on, songbird?” He reached underneath, rubbing softly up Hiphop’s ribs, his fingers light and careful. But something in him eased when Hiphop laughed nervously and nodded.

“guess so.”

“Then it stays on.”

Hiphop reached up, laying his hand over Falsi’s. He responded to the gesture by lacing them together fondly. He let himself be tugged down for a kiss that quickly turned heated. Falsi would have been embarrassed by the slack in his professionalism when he outright groaned into the kiss, but Hiphop wasn’t a patient…

He was more like a test subject… an assistant.

 _Oh, now, that thought did entice him. Down a dark and winding path and far out of sight._

They kissed, and Falsi took his time to fully explore the other’s body, mapping out his smooth bones and taking in the soft, steady hum that only got louder over his chest-

“f-falsi!!”

He was pulled out of his dark fantasies and realized his fingers had settled in a scar. Mapping it out he could imagine a crescent moon in the bone, nearly bisecting him. Were it a bit deeper, he could be sure it would. The more he dragged his bare digits against that worn and scarred bone… the more of that hum he could feel. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt a knowing pull at him. 

Falsi was always very Insightful, having a way of knowing that was nearly unnatural.

That darker line of thinking came over him and he smirked a little.

“I like the way you say my name… maybe a few more times, just to make sure it really sticks this time.”

Falsi noted the welling magic in Hiphop’s pelvis and reached down, coaxing it to form into a distinct member. He could use either one for his needs, but this one could more easily melt his subject into a useless pile of bone and fluids.

“just don’t-- stop-- f-fuck! fal-”

Watching Hiphop come undone was almost intoxicating. But he had to focus. He reached over to get the pump, carefully starting to insert it only to impulsively flinch away when Hiphop kicked out at him. A reflex he was sure, but if he’d been any slower-

His scar itched but he didn’t touch it.

“I think next time I shall properly restrain your legs.” He got up, sitting down on the offending limbs. “This will do for now.”

“s-sorry,” Hiphop gasped out. “r-reflex.”

“It’s alright, no harm this time… I’ve got you… I’ve got you.” He finished easing the tube down and gave Hiphop’s dick a soft squeeze. Hiphop made a lewd sound at the squeeze, some blue goo moving through the tube and down towards the jar. There wasn’t enough for it to make it through the loop, but that was fine. “How do you feel about bondage? I have quite a few fun ways to ensure mutual safety and pleasure.”

“i-i dunno? i don’t remember ever tr-trying it?”

“We’ll experiment, see what makes your legs weak. ...speaking of~” Falsi reached over and turned on the pump. His test subject cried out, arching his back impressively even with his legs restrained. He started drooling, the color shimmering beautifully in the light. He gripped Falsi’s legs tightly and his entire body tensed. “That’s it, that’s it, songbird… just let go, just let it wash over you…” He kissed him, enjoying the muffled whimpers as his subject relaxed, giving into it fully.

Falsi didn’t let up until Hiphop’s heat faded. They took breaks, of course, they needed to, his assistant could only give him so much at a time to work with. He was always happier with something to do and he had so many samples to use now (and something fun to distract him while he waited~).

Over the course of the week that Dream was gone, Falsi made several doses of medicine just for Hiphop. Some to increase his stamina, a few others that helped him sleep…

And one or two to make that gold settle in a little more… surface level… when Dream got home.

He also strangled Ink playfully for ruining colors for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Titles:
> 
> The Fuckening Part One, the HD Remaster
> 
> **Biryu:** No joke, Kam is in the VC jittering with excitement, like a hyper baby bean ready to be a plant to be put mistakenly on a taco.


	5. Making Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 20: Noncon/dubcon | ~~Foodplay~~ | ~~Creampie~~  
>  Extra Kinks: Hate Fuck, Impact Play, Knife Play
> 
> Falsi and Decadence -- Falsi’s not a jealous man, though he is a protective one. Deca forgets to stop at Hiphop’s safeword and Falsi gives him a taste of his own medicine. 
> 
> **Warnings: Discussion of Noncon, Noncon, Dubcon turned Noncon, Use of a Safeword, Ignoring a Safeword, Blood, Hurt no Comfort, Angst no Fluff, Drug Use, Noncon Drug Use, Unwanted Astral Advances, Nonconsensual God Fucking**  
>  \-----------  
> Decadance is a Lust boy. A Dust-Lust boy. His LV and LT are maxed out at 20 each and he's a bit of an asshole because of it. He doesn't respect boundaries, he doesn't respect the word NO, he's a very, very bad man. If that wasn't bad enough, he worships a god of violent death in the form of Anzu, a reaperfell boy GetMcDunkedOn came up with.  
> Falsi doesn't like him. At all.

Decadence knew he messed up. He knew what he was toying with by flirting with Hiphop and Killer. He knew what he was getting into when the softer of the two was inclined to let him try for the lofty promises he was making. He knew Falsi wasn’t a jealous man, he let Hiphop do as he liked, whoever he liked. Within reason. He liked to have Hiphop home in his bed for sleep and had been rather obnoxious about it.

For a guy who’s supposed to be relaxed about his open relationship, he was pretty demanding.

But Deca had delighted in taking Hiphop back to his room. He’d delighted in taking Hiphop too. It’d been a good time.

Until Deca slipped into old habits.

Hiphop had called the safeword on sight of the knife. He didn’t trust Deca as much as Falsi. Or hell, Killer for that matter. And that had stung Deca’s pride a little. And he’d been loath to let the little skeleton go. After all, he’d like it surely.

He never warmed to it, he fought and cried and finally attacked Deca, KR burning him and making those unfathomable sensations down his spine.

He thought he’d gotten off easy when there wasn’t an immediate punishment. But the following morning… he’d realized that no, the universe wasn’t going to let this one go.

The impact of his skull on one of the hard walls made his vision swim and the second strike to the back of his head had blackened it briefly. Despite knowing there couldn’t be another culprit, he was still surprised to see the doctor when his head was wrenched upright by his socket. Falsi always gave him the creeps, especially with that damned mask of his, when he was cut off from any form of expression he didn’t want to show. Gestures, lilt of the voice, it was all a courtesy. And a poor one at that.

The faint glow in one lens only unnerved him more. Falsi was surely livid if his magic was flaring so much.

_ Time to try and mend the bridge. _

“morning falsi,” Deca tried to say, his usual cheer beaten out of him in just two hits. He was slipping. The doctor’s grip tightened dangerously and Deca decided to try and cut to the chase. “listen, about hiphop, i--”

Falsi slammed him against the wall again, letting him drop in a heap. Deca, dazed, lingered for a moment… before another object was hooked into his socket around the bone and out the other orbit. Then he was dragged carelessly down the hall.

Deca couldn’t see… and whatever was touching him burned, itched. Metal by the scent, with a familiar (especially for Deca and he supposed Falsi) hint of blood. But how it burned. It made his magic fizzle uselessly in his sockets and in his head. With each vicious yank he cried out, reaching up to try and free himself only to have his hands fumble numbly against the metal.

Deca was afraid.

Falsi never liked Decadence. The word, the concept, especially not the person. He loved Kink in all his flaws. His hedonistic ways never harmed a soul, never truly rubbed one the wrong way. But Deca. Deca was like a disease. And like a disease he spread his ways, his influence, corrupting or killing whatever he touched. He was _revolting_.

Falsi didn’t use the word hate for people. It was far too strong an ideal to place on something so fleeting and fickle. But Deca? Deca brought him damn close.

When Hiphop came home, hiding himself in Falsi before at last breaking down… something in him broke. Composure, morals, he wasn’t sure. He dedicated the better part of the day soothing his songbird, not leaving his side for a moment. 

Falsi remembers how the very walls of their home seemed to shift, an eldritch snarling that only years of seeing and hearing would let him know… their king was displeased as well.

Silently, in the dark of their dungeon home… Falsi asked for a simple favor. A one time exclusion from a law he’d wholeheartedly agreed to… he promised to make it slow, painful… and surely a feast for his king.

His request was granted.

Deca wasn’t aware he’d lost consciousness, but now that he was waking up, he supposes that must have happened.

He tried to rub his face… but his arm held fast.

That… wasn’t good.

Waking fully and looking about himself he realized he was in the dungeon. Not in a proper cell, but bound to a table that had been moved into the empty hallway. There was a cold metal cylinder under him, keeping his pelvis up and his hands were bound tightly to the sides of the table. He couldn’t brace himself properly. He couldn’t roll. He couldn’t even move his head from one side to the other.

Deca wasn’t a stranger to bondage, he liked it. He liked being struck, being made ‘helpless’, but that was on his own terms. This… this was nothing of the sort. He felt trapped, cornered and vulnerable in a way his high LV didn’t like.

_ You deserve this. _

The thought was cold as death in his being. And foreign. His gaze was drawn to the empty cell he could see. There was nothing there… but he felt eyes. Felt a cruel malicious smile...

_ You deserve everything you’re about to get. _

He swallowed, a useless motion that only served to make so prominent the phantom of a knot that had welled up there.

_ You should have died. _

That wasn’t true. He didn’t die because he was strong. He wasn’t supposed to die yet. He had so much to--

_ This is all your fault. _

He tried to block the thoughts out, closing his eyes and thinking of his god--

_ Weak. Pathetic. Disgusting. Vile creature. _

Anzu wouldn’t lead him down his path only to lead him here, only to abandon him and watch him suffer--

_ Just die. _

He can’t--

_ Just give up. _

He won’t--

_ Worthless. Terrible. Beast. _

The rattling of his own bones startled him. He was afraid?

So unnatural a thought to him now, he didn’t know what he feared. Death would only deliver him to his lord’s arms at last…

Pain. Punishment unending.

**Consequences.**

A sudden strike to his bare leg made him cry out in sudden shock and pain. The metal of the cane burned unpleasantly against his bones as much as the intent behind the blow. He whimpered at another, harder strike to his other leg. So dazed he didn’t register the grip on his spine until a sharp, invasive pain came.

His magic was suddenly on fire, coursing through his bones like molten iron with nowhere to go but out. His bright, red-pink ecto formed so fast it bordered on painful. He tried to struggle… but to no avail. Now, not only was he bound but he couldn’t manage more than a weak pull. Something was impeding his ability to coax his body to react. He dimly realized… he’d been drugged.

He could smell incense, flowers and oils.. blood, leather and something distant… something wrong. It made his mind ache. Like there were too many thoughts, too many voices… the blinding light of a pale, pale moon.

He looked up as a figure stepped between him and the cell he felt more and more was not as empty as it appeared. There was the doctor. His featureless mask betraying nothing as he leaned forward on his cane to inspect his sockets. There were tears, Deca could feel them.

Between his irrational fears and the intrusive thoughts… he was emotionally spent already… then…

Something wet… heavy… and icy cold… pressed down upon him. He felt the tips of thousands of teeth scraping along his back and neck in slow, rhythmic patterns. The various marks he’d put upon himself were being worn away.

He couldn’t manage to cry out, his voice only managed a soft, plaintive sound. 

When the slimy wet feeling invaded his scalding magic he tried again, but just as fruitlessly.

Deca looked up at the doctor… he was observing him closely. Deca wished he could see behind that mask, know if Falsi was smiling or not… know if he was scowling or not… but he was placid, calm and level in that way that always made Deca feel uncomfortable…

He was being judged.

And he didn’t like it.

Decadence knew he’d messed up. He knew what he was toying with… or at least he thought he did.

At least now he knew…

He was right to be afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, he's going to die. He's a dead, dead man who's upset the wrong boy. The creature currently um... ahem, enjoying Deca is what amounts to a massive space slug monster that's just going to eat him and keep him from joining his god in death.
> 
> He deserves it, honestly. This isn't canon to our verse though, so, small indulgence here.  
> Hate my own boy, really, bad man.
> 
> Beta Notes:  
> Bad man.


End file.
